The Milktank Formula
by wolfmantwist96
Summary: A chemist decides to try out the experimental "Milktank Formula". The results are unexpected, but interesting... Warning, this transformation story is different from the others. You have been warned, Dear Reader


He gripped the blue bottle in his hand and unscrewed the top. He quickly put the rim of the bottle to his lips and let the first drops of liquid touch his tongue. That was it then; there was no going back. He tilted the bottle upwards and let the rest of the contents slide down his throat.

The formula had a fruity taste to it. It was delicious, and sweet, and the flavoring wasn't too strong so as to make it tart. Odd, he thought, that somewhere along the line the decision was even made to give it a pleasant taste. But then again, the formula that had been administered to him by his own company couldn't even be ingested; it was intravenous. Who knows why these decisions were made? It didn't matter anyway; this was Sam's obsession, and the only thing that mattered to him was the end result.

He could already feel it starting. It began in his hips – a building warmth deep beneath his skin. There was a pressure centered on his pelvis, pulsing outwards. He could literally feel his hips expanding, spreading wider. The seat of his pants were becoming tighter as his ass filled out, rounding out into a shapely feminine rump. His skin began to stretch, and soften, as layers of smooth fatty tissue gradually accumulated on his thighs, and a little on his calves.

Sam suddenly had to brace himself on his work table when the warmth in his hips and thighs intensified, taking on a decidedly more erotic nature. It was like all the muscles in his legs were in the midst of a deep, sensual massage, and as his blood began pumping, his penis began to stiffen. Sam was quickly beginning to realize that it may have been a good idea to dress better for the occasion, as his khakis were rapidly becoming rather... constricting.

"Ugh, fuck!" he muttered, frantically trying to undo his belt. He got as far as that, and was even able to remove it entirely, but he didn't quite manage to undo the brass button of his fly before a sharp wave of heat washed over his genitals. He collapsed back against the table, holding himself up with one hand as the other massaged the bulge in his pants. Sam could literally feel his manhood shrinking away, becoming less and less between his thicker thighs.

A sensation at the base of his spine drew his attention elsewhere for a brief moment. He could feel his spine elongating at the tailbone, something long and thin snaking its way downward, trapped between his own skin and the fabric of his khakis. It pushed its way between his ass cheeks, and then down the back of one of his pant legs. By the time it got below his knee, where his pants weren't quite so tight, he felt the tip of his new tail fluff out, tickling his leg with a tuft of soft fur.

Quickly following this growth, Samuel's pants had reached a straining point. Around his hips, his thighs, his round, womanly ass – his khakis groaned audibly, protesting against the internal pressure they were being subjected to. Things were getting so tight now that it was actually starting to become painful. However, the feeling of all that flesh actually accumulating – the actual, physical sensation of the process – was so erotic, so explicitly sensual, that any feelings of discomfort were outright ignored. Fortunately, though, that discomfort didn't last too long anyway. Sam tilted his head downwards when he heard the sound of tearing fabric. Though his eyes were heavy-lidded, and his mind hazy with ecstacy, he was still able to make out the sight of his khakis tearing at the seams. It was too late by now to remove his pants without tearing them; his hips were so wide that he would never have been able to slide them down. So he simply leaned forward, resting his weight on the table. He focused on the feeling of his widening hips and inflating ass, the feeling of his own body literally growing its way out of its textile prison.

Sam groaned, and felt the heat in his groin flare for a moment. The very idea of his feminizing body causing him to burst out of his clothing was enough to further fuel his arousal. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes and letting the wonderful feelings wash over him.

Then, finally, a loud rip echoed throughout the barn as his pants literally burst open, exposing the sides of his now soft, creamy thighs, and he sighed loudly at the relief. He straightened up, and looked down at himself. His hips and outer thighs buled from the wide opening that had formed, and the rest of his khakis bunched around his crotch and inner thighs. His navy-blue boxer-briefs, at least, were still intact, albeit stretched to capacity, practically painted onto his ass and thighs like a snug pair of panties. On his work table was a large box cutter. He took hold of it, and carefully sliced the rest khakis up to the waist, first on one side and then on the other, and allowed his ruined pants to fall to the ground. He stepped out of the remains, and kicked them aside.

The erotic, permeating warmth that filled his hips and legs as they filled out began to travel up higher. Sam's stomach started to soften, slowly accumulating a layer of fatty tissue that made this area of his body seem all the more feminine. He undid a few of the low buttons of his shirt and placed his hand on his stomach, pressing into the soft, smooth skin. His abdomen seemed to puff out in front a little, and as he ran his hand over the spot, he noted that the area below his navel seemed oddly sensitive. Sensitive, in fact, to the point that it reminded him yet again of his building arousal. His other hand drifted lower, between his thighs...

And he stopped. Not only did it seem as if the area where his erection would normally be was completely flat, but it was also damp. He pressed his fingers intot he area a little more intimately, and felt a peculiar ache deep inside of him. He recognized this feeling – the memories of which were partially responsible for this decision in the first place. With an excited, almost urgent motion, he grabbed the waistband of his briefs and tore them open. Without a moment's hesitation he plunged his fingers into his- well, no... her sex. Her pussy burned, and ached with a desire to have something inside of it, causing a thin trickle of juices to drip down her thighs.

Samantha Thompson started to feel weak in the knees as she worked her fingers in and out of her slit. She needed to sit. She looked around quickly, searching for a nice, comfortable place so that she didn't have to collapse right there in the middle of the barn. Off to the side, inside one of the stalls, was a decently large pile of hay. It looked soft enough, so she started shuffling towards it.

Along the way she felt a pang of discomfort in her feet and ankles, and nearly toppled over. She immediately braced herself against a support column she was close to, and proceeded to kick off her shoes – something she probably should've done earlier, but was too distracted at the time. The cause of her discomfort was immediately obvious: Her toes were thickening, merging into a pair of cloven hooves. She'd get used to them easily enough later, but for now the transition was too uncomfortable and she needed to get off her feet. So she hobbled over to the stall as fast as she could, her tail swishing behind her, tickling the backs of her calves.

She collapsed in a heap, and as her weight was removed from her legs she sighed in relief, barely cognizant of the fact that her voice was noticeably higher and softer. Now that she was sitting – lounging, really – her feet didn't feel quite so uncomfortable anymore. They were still changing, her bones shifting, but they didn't hurt. She ran her hands up her legs, admiring their newfound smoothness and feminity. Her leg hair had vanished, leaving her skin smooth and creamy, but there was a layer of soft, brown, velvety fur that was rapidly filling in, thicker on her calves and around her ankles than her thighs and hips.

Her fur continued up to her stomach, but there was a patch missing around the center of her abdomen, and the skin there had began to turn a shade of pink. She ran her fingers – which also had begun to soften and feminize – across the area. She gasped, surprised at the increased level of sensitivity. She prodded the area with her entire palm now, pressing into the smooth flesh and feeling its plushness, and how it pressed back against her hand. It felt as if... yes, it was swelling, the pink, fleshy surface distending into a bulbous shape and taking on more volume. Four specific points on the pink, pliant orb suddenly stiffened, and began to press outwards, and when Sam ran her fingers over the protrusions she was rewarded with some nice sensations.

Wen she did that, however, her nipples stiffened and rubbed against her still-buttoned shirt, distracting her yet again. She tore her shirt open, exposing her bare chest. Two soft mounds had already started to grow atop her ribcage. She placed her hands on top of her budding breasts, feeling the soft flesh beneath her palms. Sam smiled; they were sensitive. Her nipples were a fraction of an inch longer, and her areolas were slowly spreading wider. In fact, she could feel her breasts expanding in her hands, the creamy flesh beginning to push out more and more between her fingers.

She gently pinched one of her nipples between her thumb and index finger, and let loose an involuntary moan – a sound that exuded both feminity and lust. She continued massaging one of her growing breasts with one hand, while the other drifted lower, tickling the light-brown fur that was sprouting along her stomach. Sam once again came across the fleshy mound growing out of her abdomen. The four protuberances had grown. Now about an inch in diameter, and about two or three inches long, they helped the entire pink growth give the appearance of exactly what it was developing into: an udder. The smooth flesh was just as senstive as her breasts, and she delighted in the feeling of it expanding, pressing against her hand more and more, growing heavier and filling with more mass. Her teats weren't quite as senstive as her nipples, but she still felt nothing but erotic pleasure as she ran her fingertips up and down the length of one of them.

All the attention given to her breasts and udder was getting too much for Samantha to handle. She lowered her hand from her udder towards its original destination, with great reluctance. She certainly wanted to give her round, soft, fleshy growths – both breasts and udder alike – as much attention as she could, but at the same time that ache deep in her groin was too strong to ignore. Her inner thighs were wet with her own lubrication, and her fingers slid into her slit with no resistance. She massaged the inner walls of her pussy, and ran her thumb over her swollen clit. The memories of having had to relieve herself like this many times during the experiment in his old laboratory were fresh and vivid in her mind. She had no trouble remembering the best ways to please herself, and her motions were well-practiced and effective.

As she masturbated, driving herself into a pleasure-filled frenzy, the changes progressed. Her udder and breasts continued to grow and enlarge, both approaching sizes that were considered rather large by most standards. The fur continued to spread up her body, a thin but silkier layer sprouting across her breasts – her nipples darkened, turning a chocolatey color to contrast the lighter tone of her fur. Her arms, too, developed a layer of fur, as well as a layer of subcutaneous fat that rounded out her arms and making them appear more feminine. A strange pulling sensation enveloped her face as her facial bones began to shift. Her nose broadened, and pushed out, forming a snout. At the same time, she felt a sharp pressure above each temple as a pair of short, dainty horns sprouted near her hairline. And her ears grew out. And her hair lenghtened.

And so it went on, and some time later Sam's body finally stopped changing, and stopped swelling. The handsome, relatively fit, thirty-something-year-old man was gone, and in his place stood (or laid, rather) a much younger looking, and uetterly gorgeous woman, whose body just dripped with sexual energy.

A bovine goddess, with soft, light-brown fur covering her body, a luxurious tail that rested idly between her legs as she lounged in the pile of hay. Her hips were wide, her rump was round and plush, her thighs thick, her calves and arms soft and smooth – the feminine fatty tissue made her look all the more beautiful while belying her inner strength and muscle tone. Her breasts were enormous, overflowing her dainty hands, yet still retaining a firm teardrop shape, riding high and bouyant without a hint of sag despite being as large as a pair of melons. They were a symbol of fertility, adding to her already impressive womanly allure. Her udder, so pink and round and swollen and perfect, attested to her capabilities of production, a declaration of her newly acquired bovine genetics. Artificial or no, Samantha was the perfect cow-girl. A one-in-a-million specimen of pure beauty.

Sam had been masturbating the entire time changes were progressing. Even having lost count of the number of times she climaxed, her arousal and need for release had not been completely satisfied. She was still horny as all hell, but at least y this point she had gotten enough out of her system that she could push aside what remained of her lust to concentrate on whatever other task she may be presented with.

And just in time, too. As soon as Samanthat felt she was ready to remove her fingers from between her legs, she felt a new sensation fill her breasts and her udder. It was similar to the heat that enveloped her entire body while she was transformation, but it was nearly as intense. They were becoming warmer, and it felt as if the were... well, filling with something. It felt nice, and it made her smile, but it also came with a distinct sense of pressure, similar to the feeling of a full bladder that yearns to be emptied. Experimentally, she brought her fingers, still wet and sticky with her own juices, to one of her teats, and gave it a gentle tug. A thin stream of milk shot into the air before her. With her other hand she had been idly playing with one of her nipples, and now she was surprised (well, excited, really) to find that her fingers were suddnly damp with a warm liquid. She brought her fingers up to her lips, and tasted the sweet, creamy substance. Samantha's milk bore a striking resemblence to regular cows' milk, but hers was decidedly sweeter.

Samantha looked down at herself, and saw that both her breasts and her udder were swelling right before her eyes as they filled with milk. The growth wasn't much, but it was enough to make her milk-laden appendages appear bloated. It just a matter of moments before she really felt liked she had to be milked. The pressure wasn't painful at all, but it was insistent enough that she knew she'd never in her life be able to ignore it. Not that it mattered to her – in fact, she knew this would happen and was very much looking forward to it. With trembling fingers and a twinkle in her big, brown eyes, she tugged firmly but not roughly at one of her teats, sending a steady stream of milk flying in front of her. Her other hand worked at one of her enormous tits, massaging the flesh and directing the flow of milk out of her nipples. With a little bit of concentration, she was able to relax the right set of muscles in order to let down her milk.

Samantha's milk came in copious amounts from the nipple and teat her hands were working on, and from all the others, it trickled freely, as a steady stream with the occasional spurt. She delighted in the sensation of the milk leaving her body. She was producing milk now almost as fast as she was expressing it – just as the formula was designed to do. So, despite the fact there was that constant pressure, there was also the constant relief to go with it. She loved the feeling, and she loved the fact that it only fueled her libido even more, even if she was too preoccupied with milking herself to do anything about it.

The flavor of her bounty lingered in her mouth, giving her a thirst for more. She lifted her giant tit to her own mouth, wrapped her lips around the engorged nipple, and sucked with fervor. She moaned involuntarily from the onslaught of pleasure as she greedily drank from her own breast. She didn't want this feeling to end, although she knew it eventually would. Her milk production would eventually, maybe an hour or so from now, slow to the point where she'd be able to hold it in for a time, and she could go about her business without worrying about leaking all over the place. She would, though, always be able to express whenever she wanted.

Samantha rolled over onto her side into a more comfortable position. She relaxed, and allowed her milk to flow freely out of her body and onto the hay next to her. She smiled to herself as she laid there, drinking from her own breast. Her dream, her obsession that was at the forefront of her mind for so long, had finally come true.

**My one question to you, reader, would you do her?**


End file.
